Little Wonders
by Kaikamahine Mai Hawai'i
Summary: A few years after returning from The Grid, Sam settles back into life in the real world. This time, though, he's got Quorra. And sometimes, it's the little wonders that make all the difference.


**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** After having seen _Tron: Legacy_ twice, and not being able to get the Quorra/Sam pairing out of my head (which is fighting for space from the Jackson/Lisa pairing that I usually write for, for the movie _Red Eye_), I decided I had to write this down. The title comes from the Rob Thomas song of the same name, "Little Wonders", which I first heard on the movie _Meet the Robinsons_. If you watch the very end right before the credits, when they play this song, and don't cry ... you have no soul.

**SUMMARY:** A few years after returning from The Grid, Sam has settled back into his life in the real world, only this time, he's got Quorra with him. And sometimes, it's the little wonders that make all the difference.

**WARNINGS:** T, for language.

* * *

**Little Wonders**

He hadn't really planned on buying a house, not really. Not until he was probably part-way through his thirties, or even his forties. He figured he'd have time to eventually figure out what he wanted to do with his life, and by that time, it would probably include a wife, maybe a kid or two, and some corporate job. Most likely, he'd end up running ENCOM, or at least a part of it. He always figured he'd have a knack for creating hell in the R & D department, or perhaps in marketing. But, all that would come after he'd sown every last one of his wild oats, and kicked his adrenaline junkie routine.

Which was why he found it odd to be standing over his little Weber in the back yard of his new house, cooking chicken while Marv lounged on his side in the grass. He'd moved in last year, after realizing — after a few nights of awkward sleeping arrangements — that his excuse-for-a-home collection of shipping containers was not going to suffice. He would need to come up with something bigger and, when he got right down to it, he didn't want Quorra living in the aforementioned shipping containers. She deserved something better than that, and he would provide it for her.

When Alan found out about Sam's quest to find better accomodations, he merely smiled and patted him on the back. With a fatherly wistful smile, he'd said, "You're finally growing up, kiddo." Two weeks later, a handful of realtor's business cards had shown up on Sam's desk. Alan never mentioned anything about them. After contacting them, Sam had found that all of them dealt with property on the outskirts of town, in what he would label as "the country".

When he'd said something to Alan, Alan merely stated, "Hmm ... sounds like a good place to put down some roots, if I were coming out of my wild oats phase and finally getting serious about life."

That had angered Sam.

Until he got serious about Quorra.

He'd put down his bid for an empty 10-acre lot about 30 minutes away from the city. In his free time, or during meetings, he would sketch out floor plans for a kitchen, a bedroom, a garage, a master bathroom ... anything that came to mind. Quorra had started a collection of houseplants, which eventually expanded to include an assortment of potted vegetables on his dock on the back side of the shipping containers. Drawings for a garden area began to be inked on the backs of napkins and meeting agendas.

When Alan pulled a stack of papers from under Sam's hands during a meeting, he'd found plans for a two-story farmhouse, complete with a garage, a deck, a workshop, an in-ground pool, and a garden. Alan said nothing, but didn't return the drawings until the end of the meeting. When he did, the plans had been altered to include a longer countertop in the kitchen, along with an island in the middle; the master bath had his-and-hers sinks instead of just one sink in the middle of the counter; the garage and workshop had more exits to allow for a quick escape in case of fire or smoke; the deck was multi-leveled and extended from the back of the house, down to the pool; the pool size had been diminished; and the garden was closer to the house and took up the extra room that the pool deduction had ceded.

Sam didn't hear, until much later, that Alan had worked as an architect prior to joining ENCOM, and his specialty had been drafting.

It only took four months to find an architect that Sam liked. After going over specifics, work on the lot began two months later. By the end of the following winter, he and Quorra were packing up what little they had and — in one trip in a U-Haul truck — moving in to the new house.

The look on Quorra's face when she first saw their new home was priceless to Sam. The garden in the back yard had caught her eye when she stepped out onto the newly-built deck, and she'd immediately started babbling about the different flowers, herbs, fruits, and vegetables that she could begin planting there. Nothing, though, compared to the experience of sitting on their deck the morning after they'd moved in, eyes still bleary with sleep, coffee mugs steaming in their hands, as they sat and watched their first sunrise together in their new house.

By spring, the pool had been filled — though it was too cold to go swimming just yet — and Quorra had been busy at work, getting the first plants in the ground, while Sam tested out the new space in the garage and workshop by making adjustments to his dad's Ducati.

By the time the Memorial Day/Housewarming Party had rolled around, Sam had made trips to four different jewelers and was able to sneak a couple of pictures of his selections to Alan for his input, while Quorra and Alan's wife, Dinah, sat out in the warm sun next to the pool.

As the fireworks were bursting in the air above a particularly patriotic — or pyrotechnic — family nearly a mile down the road, Sam had asked Quorra the question he'd been trying to work up the courage to ask for six months.

"Sam?" Sam pulled himself out of his reverie and quickly flipped the chicken on the little charcoal grill in front of him. Quorra held a loaded basket of freshly-picked vegetables in her arms. "I thought maybe you could try grilling up a few vegetables along with the chicken."

Sam set the lid back on the Weber and moved to his wife, carefully pulling the basket from her arms. "I thought we agreed that you weren't supposed to be doing any heavy lifting?" he admonished gently, attempting to give her a stern look by raising his eyebrow.

"No, _you_ agreed that I shouldn't be doing any heavy lifting. I agreed to no such thing," Quorra corrected, rolling her eyes when she saw Sam's concerned look. "I'm pregnant, Sam, not incapable of any physical labor whatsoever."

Sam set the vegetables next to the grill before moving to wrap her in a gentle hug. He laid a kiss on her forehead as she wrapped her own arms around him. "I know. I'm just being the typical overprotective first-time dad, I guess. Don't blame me for being nervous."

Quorra laughed against his shoulder. "I don't; I find it to be quite cute, actually." She pulled back, furrowing her brows at him. "Even if you do get a little too carried away, sometimes."

They shared a grin before Sam released her with a gentle swat against her backside. "You really think that they'll eat that much?" He asked, nodding to the basket of vegetables.

Quorra overturned an empty plastic one-gallon pot from one of the fruit trees she had planted earlier in the year, tapping it a few times to knock loose any excess dirt. "Who said these were all for the Bradleys?" She transferred a few of the vegetables from the overloaded basket into the pot. "I've got a big appetite, now, you know?" Her smile warmed Sam's heart as he glanced to her no-longer-flat midsection.

"Make sure to leave some for the rest of us."

* * *

By the time dinner was completely ready, the sun was nearly down, and the majority of the lighting came from the tiki torches and citronella candles that burned in various places around the deck. Dinah had brought fresh-baked bread and rolls, plus her broccoli casserole that Sam devoured every time she made it. Alan brought a red wine and a few cigars, which he and Sam planned to partake of later in the evening.

Dinner consisted of grilled chicken and roasted vegetables, Dinah's broccoli casserole and rolls, a fresh-picked salad straight from Quorra's garden, wine, and — in Quorra's case — tea. They all ate slowly, trading the day's news back and forth, lightly swatting away mosquitos, and enjoying each other's company. They discussed the new game console that ENCOM was planning on releasing in the winter to rival Microsoft and Nintendo, the local ASPCA's adoption drive that was coming up next month (Dinah was none-too-subtle about suggesting that Marvin needed a playmate), the war in Afghanistan, the yard sale Alan went to last week where he found a legitimate Hank Aaron baseball card (even if it wasn't in the best condition), and finally, the impending birth of the newest Flynn.

Quorra gave Sam a soft gaze while running her fingers absent-mindedly up and down her tea glass, before looking back to Alan. "The doctor said I'm probably going to be due around the middle of October, instead of the end."

"No Halloween baby, then?" Alan asked, giving a slight chuckle. "And here, I thought Sam could dress up when he took you to the hospital."

"I could go as a pumpkin," Quorra laughed.

Sam gave a small laugh and looked up to his mentor. "We found out the baby's sex the other day."

"What!" Alan exclaimed. "I put down fifty bucks that you were holding out!" His incredulous look held a hint of a smile. "What happened to, 'Oh, as long as the baby's healthy'?"

Sam grinned and glanced meaningfully back at Quorra. "I had a pretty convincing ISO who really wanted to come up with names."

Dinah spoke up, "And? What were the names you were going to choose?"

Sam sighed and leaned back, taking a sip of his wine. "We decided ... if it was a boy, we were going to name him Derrick Alan Flynn." He looked up at Alan. "Derrick for my dad's middle name, and Alan for ... well ... you." A look settled on Alan's face that Sam couldn't quite name. "My dad, because ... y'know, he did the best he could for me and Quorra with the time he was allotted. And you, because," he moved forward, leaning against his elbows that he placed on the table, "you took care of us when he couldn't."

The group was silent, watching Alan, who seemed to be struggling with speech. "Sam, I don't-" He looked helpless for a moment, before pulling off his glasses and wiping at his eyes. "I don't know what to say, I-" His words cut off as his jaw trembled. Quorra gave him a consoling smile and rubbed his back as he fought for composure. "That was awfully nice of you, Sam. You didn't have to."

Sam smirked. "Don't worry. We didn't." His grin expanded. "It's a girl."

* * *

Sam listened to dishes clinking inside the house as he and Alan stood at the edge of the deck, looking out at the open field that comprised the rest of his yard. Above, the stars blinked and shimmered brightly, not having to compete with the light pollution from the city.

Alan lit his cigar, taking a few puffs of it, before passing his lighter to Sam. He could hear his wife laughing with Quorra as the two women put away the leftovers. "So, Aurora Evangeline, huh?"

Sam passed the lighter back and, having declined the cigar, took a drag from his cigarette. He'd smoked like a fiend at the end of high school and during college, but seldom did nowadays. Still, the nicotine rush calmed something inside him and the taste was nicely familiar. "Yep," Sam said, exhaling a stream of smoke into the light breeze.

"Your idea, or Quorra's?" Alan flicked an ash into the yard, knowing it would be gone by morning. Sam copied the movement then ran his fingers through his hair.

"Quorra's. I agreed to it, though." He took another pull on his cigarette. "When she told me the meanings of the names, I couldn't argue. So, Aurora Evangeline it is."

"What do they mean?" Alan asked.

Sam smiled. "Can you take a guess at what Aurora means?" Alan stared out at the field, seeing a few dark shapes moving against the background of the trees, before realizing they were a few deer, foraging in the open field. "It means 'dawn'." The deer froze as Alan's chuckle popped out of his mouth, then retreated quickly back into the woods. Sam continued smiling. "Evangeline means 'good news'. Again, who was I to argue that?" He looked back at Alan, who smiled down at him.

"You've really come a long way, Sam. You know that?" Alan's voice was quiet. "Your father would be so proud, if he could see you now ... if he could see the man that you've become." He shook his head at the memories that came to the surface. "I mean, you went from being this, this ... _punk_ kid, who's idea of a good time was pranking his missing father's company every year ... this kid who dropped out of school and lived in a shithole of a house, down by the river in the _industrial district_, for Christ's sake, to ..." he exhaled, before looking back at Sam, "to this." He gestured at Sam, who narrowed his eyes slightly, anticipating Alan's next words. "You're now the CEO of ENCOM, you show up to work on time, you don't bitch about the meetings you have to go to." Alan motioned to the yard. "You've got this gorgeous house-"

"Which you helped design. I can't take all the credit there."

"True, I'll take some of it." Alan smiled. "Could you imagine the water bill if that pool was as big as you originally wanted it to be?" Sam laughed, flicking his cigarette again. "Most importantly, though, Sam — and I _really_ mean this, so listen up." Alan turned sideways to face Sam and leaned against the deck, picking lightly at the wrapper of his cigar, studying it as if it could help him make the proper word choices. "You really did the right thing with Quorra."

Sam gave a wistful smile and looked away.

"No, c'mon, Sam; I _mean_ it!"

"I know you do, Alan," Sam said, his voice a litle rough. "I know you do, it's just ..." He took a deep breath and let it out. "Sometimes, I wonder if it's enough, y'know?"

Alan shook his head. "No, Sam. I don't know."

"I just think about all that my dad said about her. She's supposed to be the savior of mankind, and she's supposed to change the world, and everything, and yet, I-" He looked down at his shoes. "I've got her living the life of some stereotypical housewife, where she's knocked up and walking around barefoot, and she could be out there doing ..." He shrugged. "Whatever it was Dad created her for."

Alan shook his head. "She was an ISO, Sam. Remember? The ISOs came about spontaneously. Your dad didn't create her. She's a miracle. And don't for _one minute_ think that what the two of you have isn't special enough for the rest of the world!" Alan pointed his finger at Sam angrily. "That's the biggest lie you could ever tell yourself! Do you honestly believe that what she's doing — what the _two of you_ are doing — isn't the noblest profession on God's green Earth?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Alan, man, I get it. You're trying to make me feel better, but I'm honestly not follow-"

"Sam ... you've gone and done in the past three years what many of us having been trying to get you to do since you were fourteen: straighten up. You went from being a self-centered brat to a juvenile delinquent to a young man with no future. Then, you go to The Grid, you find your dad, and you come back with Quorra. After that, you clean your life up, you start becoming a responsible adult, you take care of Quorra, and you protect her." Alan looked hard at Sam. "You know ENCOM's stock has risen 50% since you took the reigns, Sam? We're now the number one company that kids want to work for when they're older. That pilot program that you put into the middle schools and high schools last year? Ninety-two percent of the kids that were surveyed before the start of the program said they didn't want to go to college. After they started going through the program, that number fell to three percent. Test scores and overall grades improved seventy-eight percent."

"What?"

"You're inspiring people, Sam. Kids are getting interested in their educations that they're receiving. And it's not just kids! We've seen a seventy percent increase in applications for employment and internships. Some of the ones that didn't get hired are starting their own companies. One of the women that applied for our development program opened her own communications company and they're now the leading donor of cell phones for troops stationed overseas to call home. We've got a guy we just hired last year who found a way to cut our operating costs in marketing by four million dollars _a quarter_."

"No one told me about any of this," Sam murmured incredulously.

"And Quorra! She showed me some math the other day, I passed it along to a financial analyst that I know in Oklahoma City ... he said that she might've found a way to cut governmental spending in half!" He gave a chuckle. "I had the Senate Minority Leader leave a message for me last week that said he wanted to go over her numbers."

Sam laughed, rubbing his face tiredly. "Maybe she's having a bigger effect than I thought."

"That's not the biggest thing, she's done, Sam. The both of you-" he gave an audible sigh. "You two ... you guys have an unbelievable opportunity." He pointed at the kitchen window, where Quorra and Dinah could be seen passing by at irregular intervals. "That woman in there, Sam — _your wife_ — is going to be giving you the greatest gift you could ever imagine in a few months. And when that baby gets here, you both have the incredible responsibility to raise a child to become someone with the principles and values that her parents live by _engrained_ in her." Alan nodded slowly and looked back at Sam. "And that's the biggest positive change you could ever make in the world."

* * *

Sam heard the screen door open, followed by Marv's tags jingling as he scampered off the deck and out into the yard. "Alan wanted me to tell you thanks for dinner," Quorra called out. He could hear her approaching and moved to the side of the porch swing. He patted the spot next to him invitingly as she came over.

"He and Dinah leave already," he asked as she took the offered spot and leaned her head against his shoulder.

"Yeah," she murmured, adjusting her position slightly as she felt his arm wrap around her shoulder. "Dinah was a little loopy from the wine, so Alan said he'd take her home to sleep it off." She could feel his fingertips tracing light patterns on her arm. "He also said to remind you of the early meeting Tuesday morning."

"Already got it programmed in my phone." He leaned his head against hers and set his foot against the ground and pushed off, setting the swing in motion. "Can I ask you something, Quorra?" She gave a slight hum in reply. "Do you ever think about how things would be if we didn't get together?"

She was quiet for a long time, letting the only only sounds be just the creak of the swing, the buzz of the cicadas, and the jingling of Marvin's tags. When she finally did speak, her voice was quiet. "No," she finally said, "I try not to."

"Why?"

"Because." She shifted against him lightly, leaning further into his shoulder. "It makes me sad when I do."

"What do you mean?" he asked.

Quorra sat up straight and turned her body to face him, dislodging his arm from her shoulder in the process. "If you and I never got together, I ... I never would've known what a kiss feels like." A small, sad smile crossed her lips. "I wouldn't have known what the sun looks like, reflecting off of the river. I'd never have seen the inside of the building your father built. I wouldn't have known what it feels like to be loved, unconditionally, by another person, the way that you love me." She reached for his hand and pulled it to the swell of her belly, placing it against her warm skin. Sam could distinctly feel an appendage jutting out — either an elbow or a knee — and press against his hand. "I never would have been able to feel her move."

He looked up into her eyes, which were bright with unshed tears. With a pleased sigh, he leaned forward and kissed her, letting his lips move against her own. He wrapped his other hand around the back of her head, pulling her deeper into the kiss. After a few moments, the two broke apart and Quorra stood. Sam smiled up at her. "You always know just the right things to say to pull me out of a funk, you know that?

Quorra's lips turned upwards and she blushed lightly. "I'm going to bed. See you up there?"

Sam nodded, placing both hands on her belly again. "Yeah, I'll be up in a few. Gotta bring Marv in, the lock the house up, turn out the lights down here, and set the security alarm." He leaned forward and pressed his lips to her stomach. "G'night little girl," he murmured against the taut skin. "Settle down in there so your mama can get to sleep, okay?" As if in defiant response, the baby shifted, pressing against both of his hands as she turned.

Quorra chuckled, rubbing her stomach tiredly. "She'll settle down in a few minutes." She leaned down to give him another kiss. "I hope."

Sam watched her walk toward the house, then turned his gaze back out to the field."Marv," he shouted. "C'mon, boy, let's go in!"

* * *

Sam crept up the stairs quietly, with Marv bounding past him to the top of the steps. As Sam entered the room, he could see Quorra was already in bed, laying on her side, facing away from him. He was careful to make as little noise as possible while he changed into a pair of boxers and a t-shirt, throwing his old clothes into the hamper. As he slid in bed, Quorra turned her head, looking over his shoulders. "Hey," he whispered with a smile. She returned the smile, eyes bleary with sleep, and scooted back against him until they were spooned against each other. Sam let his hand drape over her side and rest on her stomach. He never tired of feeling the baby move, but he was glad that she seemed to have settled down for the night, to allow Quorra some rest. His hand found a conspicuous bump, though, pressing out from her side. He ran his fingers over the bump, trying to discern what it could be.

"Foot," Quorra verified, stilling his hand with her own. "If you tickle her and wake her back up, I'm going to be mad at you, Sam Flynn."

Sam laughed against her shoulder and placed his palm flat against her skin again, stopping his movements. "Yes, ma'am, _Mrs._ Flynn." He could hear her soft exhale of a laugh before she quieted down. Minutes later, her deep, even breathing signaled she had fallen asleep.

Laying there under the covers, with Quorra pressed against him, and his hand pressed against their unborn child, Sam realized that maybe it wasn't the huge feats or big miracles that changed the world. If that little spark of chaos had never occurred in The Grid, the ISOs never would've appeared, and Quorra wouldn't have been created. If Sam hadn't pressed that one tiny key, he never would've rezzed himself into The Grid, where he met Quorra. If he hadn't asked Quorra those four little words — _will you marry me?_ — he never would've been able to lay here with her right now, content with her body wrapped in his arms.

No, he realized, it wasn't always the big things that changed life.

Sometimes, it was the little wonders that made all the difference


End file.
